Chapter Thirteen
Jude
I fell back in my chair when Morgan’s mother dropped a fucking bomb in my lap. I looked at my wife; tears ran down her face as she waited for my reaction.
“Your father is Braesal O’Malley?” I asked, not expecting an answer. Not really even asking the question, more stating what I heard. Needing confirmation from my own lips.
“And King...” I shook my head. This couldn’t be true. I wasn’t married to my best friend’s sister. I turned my eyes back to Morgan. “How long have you known?”
Morgan stared at me. The fear in her eyes made me angry. I’d never fucking hurt her. I’d never lay a fucking hand on her.
“How fucking long, Morgan?” I stood up and took a step closer. King grabbed my arm, and I tried to shrug him off, but the fucker had an iron grip.
“Easy, Chasm.”
“Fuck off. This is between me and my wife.”
“I’ll remind you that Morgan is no longer your wife,” Scribe said from the doorway. “When you were declared dead, your marriage was dissolved. And I’ll also remind you that when she was with my brother, you were still dead.”
“I’m not fucking dead,” I ground out.
“She didn’t know that,” King said behind me.
I didn’t want to hear their fucking logic. I didn’t want to be fucking reasonable. I wanted my wife to be faithful, like I fucking was. Last night was the first time I’d touched a woman in seven fucking years, and it was my fucking wife’s cunt I sunk my dick into.
“How long have you known?” I asked again, my focus on Morgan.
“She’s always known Sal is her father,” her mother answered. “We only learned Kingston is her brother earlier this year. Devlyn told her. Sal doesn’t know she knows.”
I stared at my wife. “Were you ever going to tell me?”
“You died,” she said.
“I’m right fucking here!” I yelled, slamming my fist against my chest. I pointed my finger at her and said, “You should have told me.”
Morgan straightened her back and stepped closer to me. “You should have come home.”
Getting my nose broken and my balls kicked hurt less than the look in her eyes when she said I should have come home.
She was right; I should have. But I couldn’t put her at risk.
I couldn’t put her life in danger. If anyone had known I survived that explosion, they would have hunted me, and they would have used her to lure me in.
But she wouldn’t let me explain.
She wouldn’t let me tell her the truth.
“I came home,” I said. “And my world turned to shit.”
I pushed past Scribe and left the clubhouse. I didn’t go to the lodge; I couldn’t. Not right now. I needed to drive. I needed to ride. When I reached the bottom of the mountain, I drove out of Rosewood.
I continued on until I was three towns away, and then I pulled into a Harley dealership. I wasn’t buying a new bike; I had a bike at home. But I needed to feel the wind on my face.
I climbed out of my truck and walked around the lot, looking for something fast. Something sleek. I walked up to a matte black Breakout model. I circled the bike, then climbed on to test out the seat and the feel.
“You ever ridden before?” the salesman asked.
I looked up at the man. He was dressed similar to me—dress pants and a button-down. I couldn’t fault him for his question. I didn’t look much like a biker the way I was currently dressed. It was a costume, a way to blend in.
“Once or twice.” I smiled at his hesitation. “Can I take it for a ride?”
“You got a license?” he asked, and I knew he was sizing me up.
I pulled out my wallet and handed it over. The man studied it for a long time, before finally nodding.
“Come inside and we’ll fill out the paperwork.”
“How long do I have?”
“Two hours, max,” he muttered. He knew I wasn’t buying, but he couldn’t deny me the test drive.
A few minutes later, I was on the road. The bike handled perfectly as I hit the backroads of Virginia. Usually, my mind would blank out when I rode, but today it was filled with memories. The day I met Morgan being front and center.
Seven years ago...
I walked into the coffee shop, my head full of questions. My focus stuck on the piece of information I’d found. The one that might get me killed.
But at least I’d take Steele and Stone down with me.
They had to pay for what they did to Titan.
I walked up to the counter and placed my order. I waited off to the side, my eyes glued to the email I’d received from my brother. It was a start, but it wasn’t enough.
Everything I’d found eluded to the same thing, but there was nothing concrete. Not yet. I wouldn’t stop until I found it, though.
Hearing my name called, I grabbed my coffee and turned to leave, and that was when I saw her. Sitting at a table in the corner of the shop, laptop opened in front of her, books spread out on the table, biting her lip as she typed.
She was beautiful. Long dark hair pulled back in a ponytail. Dark lashes that swept her cheek every time she blinked. And freckles splashed over her nose. I hadn’t realized how long I’d been staring at her until she spoke.
“Can I help you?” she asked without looking up.
“Wondering what’s caught your attention so much you can’t feel how much damage you’re doing to that lip.”
She licked her lips and looked up. Her eyes widened and she smiled.
“Hi,” she breathed.
One word. One tiny syllable washed over me like a warm blanket on a cold night, and I was done.
“Mind if I sit?” I asked.
She bit her lip again, her eyes focusing on the patch on my cut. She nodded, and I pulled out the chair next to her.
“You in school?”
“I am,” she answered. “U of A, Little Rock. Go Razorbacks!” She smiled brightly and the twinkle in her eyes brightened up my world like nothing I’d ever experienced.
“What are you studying?”
“Business and Hospitality Management.”
Shit, she was young. How young, I wasn’t sure. “You have dreams of running a hotel?” I asked, taking a sip of my coffee.
“A spa, actually. I graduate in a few months and then when I go home, I’ll open my own business.”
If she was graduating in a few months, she had to be at least twenty-two. Eleven years younger than I was, but she wasn’t a teenager.
“Sounds ambitious.”
“I’m an ambitious person.”
She leaned her arms on the table and when she turned her head to look at me, the ponytail fell over her shoulder. Suddenly all I could think of was wrapping that hair around my hand as I fucked her from behind.
“Have dinner with me.”
It wasn’t a request; it was a demand. I kept my voice low, let the timbre rumble through my chest and was rewarded for my effort. Her voice hitched, and she squirmed in her seat.
She wanted me as much as I wanted her.
One night, I told myself.
That was all I would offer. If she turned it down, I’d be disappointed. But if she accepted, I make sure that one night was a night she’d never forget.
That line of thinking had backfired on me with Morgan. One night hadn’t been enough. One night turned into one week, and then one month, and then two pink lines.
I pulled the bike into a diner and backed it into a spot. I found a table in the back and ordered a cup of coffee and the daily special.
And then I called my brother.
“You’re still there, aren’t you?”
“Don’t start shit with me.”
“What’s wrong?”
I ran a hand over my face. “Everything,” I confessed. “She slept with someone. She fucked someone else.”
Justin’s sigh was loud, and I knew what he was about to say. The same thing Scribe had said.
“You were dead, little brother. You made the decision to stay dead so she would be safe. So that she could move on. You can’t fault her for doing what you wanted her to do.”
“Why does everyone keep saying that?”
“Because it’s the truth. I get it; you stayed faithful to her. But you fucking knew you were alive. She didn’t. She believed you were never coming back.”
I knew he was right, and I knew I was being an asshole. But the thought of another man fucking my wife made me want to murder someone.
“There’s something else,” I said, changing the subject.
“What?”
I sighed and waited for the server to leave after dropping off my order.
“I don’t want to hear a bunch of shit from you. No ‘I told you sos.’”
“Now I’m fucking worried.”
“Remember how I made you promise not to dig into Morgan?”
“Yeah,” my brother said, dragging out the word.
“I should have let you.”
“Oh shit. What did you find?”
“I didn’t find shit; apparently Romeo did.”
I shared the story with my brother, starting with Cameron and his irritating personality, and ending with me storming out of the clubhouse.
Justin laughed loud and hard. “I want to meet this kid.”
“Not a chance.”
“I don’t know, little brother. You might need back up when King gets to town.”
“I can handle King.”
“And his father? Your wife’s father?”
“She’s not my wife,” I said, but the words felt hollow, tasteless. Much like the food I was trying to force down my throat. I pushed the plate away and pulled the coffee closer. At least that was palatable.
“That’s the first time you’ve accepted that,” my brother said quietly.
“She lied to me, Justin. She slept with someone else. And I don’t want to hear fuck all about her thinking I was dead. It’s over.”
“You’re an asshole.”
“I know.”
I talked with Justin for a few more minutes before he let me go and I called Zombie.
“Chasm, when you coming home, brother?”
“A few more days. I need you to send Krypto and Ambush to Rosewood.”
“Everything okay?”
“Hit a few snags.”
“Anything I can help with?”
“Nah, just take care of shit there. Any problems?”
“No. Threw a couple of parties and got a few women to sign on and found three prospective prospects.”
“Can you send me their information to look over?”
“Sure can. The guys can tell you more about each one when they get there.”
“Thanks, B.”
The line was silent for a moment before B asked, “How’s things with your wife?”
“Not great. Turns out my wife is King’s sister.”
“Fuck off, really? Does King know?”
“He does now.” I stood up and threw some money on the table. Once outside, I climbed on the bike and sat there for a few minutes. “He’s on his way to Rosewood.”
“Which is why you need Ambush and Krypto,” he surmised. “I’ll get them on the road in the next twenty minutes.”
“Thanks, brother. Tell them to meet me at the Rosewood Ski Lodge.”
“Take care, Chasm.”
He disconnected the phone, and I closed my eyes. I should have stayed fucking dead. Life was simpler as a ghost. It might have been lonely, but I lived in the delusion that my wife hadn’t moved on. Hadn’t tried to replace me in her life.
I returned the bike to the dealership, and even considered purchasing it. But I’d have to buy a trailer as well. I wasn’t staying in Virginia. As soon as I talked to King, knowing he was on his way here, I’d go back to Arkansas.
Move on with my life.
Let my wife go.
It was the only option now. Too much time had passed. Too much shit had gone down. Too many secrets had come between us.
We’d lost what we had.
Though maybe we never really had it to begin with.